


Collision

by unraelated



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Alpha, Feral Dimitri, First Rut, Frottage, M/M, Topping from the Bottom, a ridiculous amount of prose, a/b/o dynamics, i say i dont have a size difference kink but, light bloodplay, there are a lot of size difference comments in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 07:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/pseuds/unraelated
Summary: Dimitri unexpectedly goes into his first rut shortly after the Remire mission.  Since Dimitri helped Dedue through his own first rut in the year prior, Dedue tries to extend the same courtesy.What he does not anticipate is what the presence of another alpha does to Dimitri's frenzied instincts.





	Collision

Remire was a nightmare.

Not... technically, in truth the mission was a modest success with the vast majority of the townsfolk being saved and the ones who were too far gone were put out of their misery as quickly as possible.

But it was a disaster for Dimitri, who had shown what the others thought to be an uncharacteristic rage, and who had killed indiscriminately until his lance was slick with blood and there was nothing on the battlefield but ash and bodies. Dedue hadn’t stopped him then, though he wonders if he should have tried when Dimitri drove his lance through one of the corpses and _twisted_, as if somehow trying to cause more damage to one who was already dead.

He had trembled all the way back and closed himself off in his room without any supper the moment that they’d returned to the monastery, where he has remained for the better part of the evening. At this point, even Dedue- who has seen these kinds of fits in his prince before- has to admit that this is different than his previous bloodlusts. 

The others are concerned for him as well, all but Felix who similarly stalks away without speaking to anyone. It leaves the rest of the Blue Lions there bereft, without a leader and without any idea what’s going on. Dedue feels their curious glances, as if he could answer the question on everyone’s mind, but he says nothing and moves back toward his own quarters.

_

Dimitri isn’t where the two of them usually meet to walk to class together and he’s not in class the next day, which only serves to intensify this feeling of concern. Their professor simply arches an eyebrow at the unusually-absent lord and returns to the lecture, leaving Dedue’s mind to wander and consider what may be happening to his highness.

These fits of anger were not the norm but they _have_ happened before. Afterward, Dimitri had always dragged himself off of the battlefield, drenched in blood and gore, and grudgingly changed his clothing and washed himself before apologizing sincerely to any onlookers, a practice which Dedue had never thought necessary. It was obvious that he bore great shame from his actions, but this time he hadn’t seemed particularly guilty. Just… startled into a numb shock, as if the new bloodlust had awoken something else within him, something that he hadn’t known was there.

For all that Dedue has already experienced his first awakening, it still takes him a long few moments to finally put the pieces together.

When it finally clicks, his head snaps up in surprise, his eyes wide. It earns him a curious stare from Mercedes sitting next to him, but she doesn’t know. How could she possibly know?

Dimitri is an alpha.

Or, at least- he’d manifested into one at Remire. How could he have been so blind? It’s been some time since Dedue’s had presented for the first time, but the signs were unmistakable, though in retrospect they were masked by Dimitri’s usual bloodlust and his crest which already granted him a superior form of strength. The violence, the anger, the enhanced physical prowess… and all of it triggered by the reemergence of his own trauma. Dedue would wince in sympathy if he wasn’t already thinking further at what to do.

It doesn’t come as a shock to him that Dimitri is an alpha: he’d displayed all the proper signs of one, and Dedue, like most others around him, had assumed that he would manifest eventually.

At seventeen though, he would be ahead of the curve when it comes to presenting, though Dedue supposes it isn't _that_ early. It's only that, with so much else that's happened this year, first ruts and heats were far out of everyone's mind.

Behind him, Sylvain prods at Dedue's shoulder. 

"Dimitri still sick?" he whispers, hissing it between his teeth in an almost-comical attempt to not be overheard.

Dedue considers this for a moment: his prince would undoubtedly like some privacy in his time of need and - 

(does he have anything to help him? Was he expecting this or was it just as much of a shock to him as it had been for Dedue, that first time? What is he doing, holed up in his room and struggling through the first aching _need_-) 

"I'm going to check on him after class," Dedue answers curtly, immediately dismissing the thoughts from his mind. 

Sylvain doesn't take this for the dismissal that it is. 

"That's good of you. I'll go with- maybe he just needs someone to cheer him up, and no offense but you're not exactly the pinnacle of-" 

"-that will not be necessary."

Dedue interrupts him, a little too loudly which earns him a glare from Felix in the row ahead. Thankfully, Sylvain shuts up and Dedue now realizes that what he said was true: he will need to check on his highness. He's the only one in this house that he trusts to be discreet, and if they get the faculty involved it would only mean further embarrassment.

As an alpha himself, Dedue is no stranger to first ruts. Dimitri had been there for him when he'd first had the experience, there with a cool cloth on the back of his neck and warm food stolen from the kitchens. 

He knows what it feels like to feel too large for your own skin, to feel like clawing your face off with the desperate _need_ that goes unfulfilled. He remembers the aggression and the desire to put his fist through a wall, to scream into his pillow, to fight and feast and _fuck_. There were no alphas or omegas around when he’d had his first rut, just Dimitri who hadn’t presented yet, and he’d been gentled through that first week of hell.

The first time really is the worst, when the body is unaccustomed to the flood of hormones and instincts crashing through it. In the ruts since then, Dedue has managed to not only keep himself in check, but also to function just as well as he might have normally, just with a slight increase in irritability and his tendency to slip his hand under the waistband of his boxers when he was alone in his room.

He hopes it can be that way for Dimitri. He hopes it isn’t terrible now. But he plans for the worst, just in case. 

_

What Dedue doesn’t anticipate is what the presence of another alpha will do to Dimitri’s already-fragile psyche.

Shortly after class had let out, he’d gone straight for supplies as soon as he could safely get away without arousing suspicion. Dedue carefully balances the items in his arms- a cloth, a basin with water, some food and drink- and knocks at Dimitri’s door before readjusting his grip on the various things that he’d hoped might help.

No response.

He knocks again, a little more insistent this time, particularly since it means that he has to reshuffle the supplies in his arms.

“-go away.”

It’s definitely Dimitri. He doesn’t sound completely broken, but he sounds haggard, _miserable_. Dedue’s concern for him ramps up and he presses closer to the door so he can talk through it.

“It’s me, your highness.”

There’s a pause and Dedue hears something rustling. Fabric, perhaps? A blanket?

“I’m- I’m not feeling well.”

Dedue can see the request for him to leave in that statement, but he presses onward anyway. If he doesn’t help Dimitri, who will? Even- no, _especially_ when he’s like this.

“I know. I brought you some things that might help you feel better.”

“...it’s not that kind of sickness. I just need to be alone.”

He frowns, not really wanting to have this conversation on opposite sides of the door, where any number of others could walk past on their way to their rooms and hear them. But with little other option, Dedue attempts to be discreet.

“I know what kind of sickness it is. Please, your highness, allow me to help.”

Dedue hopes that his words will bring back memories for Dimitri of the previous year, memories of him soothing Dedue’s own rut with a warm hand rubbing circles against his back, a cool cloth to mop up the sweat, and all the food and drink he could want being brought to him.

Maybe it does, because the lock on the door slowly clicks open what feels like an eternity later. The door opens a crack and Dimitri’s owlish blue eyes peer out from behind it. Even only being able to see two inches of his prince’s face, Dedue knows immediately that it hasn’t been easy on him. Sleep wears under his eyes and his hair is unbrushed and limp against his pale face. Dedue reaches for the door to open it more fully, but _something_ stops him.

When he looks up, Dimitri’s eyes are wide and he makes a move to close the door in Dedue’s face, but Dedue certainly doesn’t lack for strength and keeps it open with one hand, the other precariously balancing the supplies- one of the cloths tumbles to the floor, an acceptable sacrifice, but the plates of food and waterskins are heavier and he’s trying to keep them in check.

“Your highness-”

“-no! I can’t- you’re-”

The urgency in Dimitri’s voice is sharp enough that Dedue goes slack and the door is slammed despite his best efforts, the resulting impact knocking the tray of food from his hands and splattering it on the floor.

It’s made a proper mess of the carpet now, and a few doors away, Hilda pokes her head out of her own room at the noise, her nose wrinkling when she notes whatever drama is unfolding down the hall. She seems to weigh the idea of finding out the gossip of what’s going on with the prospect of being asked to help and eventually seems to decide that it isn’t worth it because she moves back into her room and closes the door.

He needs to clean this up.

He needs to help Dimitri.

Dedue grits his teeth and has to choose, in the end choosing the mess simply because leaving it will attract others to Dimitri’s door, which is the last thing either of them want. He crouches down, dutifully mopping up the scattered rice and meat and piling it back onto the plate where he can throw it away.

As he works, he hears a shifting from behind Dimitri’s door. Dedue has too much self control to look up and instead merely keeps his eyes on his work, finding the stray pieces of rice that scattered all around.

The door slowly opens again, but Dedue is practiced and keeps his eyes on the ground so as not to alarm the other man or challenge him with eye contact.

“...I’m sorry.”

It’s soft and hushed. Dedue shakes his head- there’s no need to apologize for this and never a need to apologize to him.

“You are upset. It’s understandable. I would like to help if I can.”

“I would hurt you.”

Is that what he’s afraid of? Dedue lifts his head finally to look up at his prince, who has opened the door more fully and _then_ he understands.

Neither of them had a parent around to discuss the intricacies of biology to them after they hit a certain age. There was Rodrigue for Dimitri, but… this sort of conversation is always delicate and uncomfortable, and Dedue wouldn’t be surprised if the subject had simply never come up- it hasn’t for him.

Looking at Dimitri now, a young alpha in his first rut, _smelling_ him… it riles something deep in Dedue’s gut, a faint whisper of violence and aggression and the strange need to eliminate competition, assert _dominance_... all things that he can easily attribute to hormones because he has never in his life felt that way toward his highness.

That he feels it even now is alarming, and Dedue suddenly realizes why Dimitri had been so startled earlier at the mere sight of him. The prince must be feeling these same things tenfold, and with his already-fragile grasp on his own bloodthirst...

Well.

Dedue can force down the feeling for his duty to Dimitri. He isn’t nearly so much at the mercy of his feelings and hormones, and if he doesn’t help his prince then who will?

He still doesn’t move to stand. The less he presents himself as a threat, the better.

“You know I am strong,” he finally says carefully, “if nothing else, then please allow me to be the unflinching shore that you crash your waves upon. I cannot bear to know that you are suffering with no one to help you.”

“Dedue…”

Dimitri looks shaken but weak, clearly close to relenting. Finished with his task of cleaning up the mess, Dedue sets the plate next to Dimitri’s door and looks up at him, imploring. He is on one knee, he distantly realizes, in the kind of pose that one might fall into when swearing fealty to a lord. He’s already done that, long ago, and he hopes that on some level, his subservience can help Dimitri’s instincts to accept him as a friend instead of a rival.

“Please.”

It works. Dimitri hesitates for only a moment longer before nodding, slowly opening his door wider to allow entry. In turn, Dedue rises from where he’d been kneeling, with the waterskins and the cloths that hadn’t gotten mussed with food.

He enters.

_

Dimitri’s room is ordinarily immaculate. Dedue has been inside more than a few times as they’ve discussed various strategies and shared insights on the other students. Now though, it looks as if a beast had been through it: there’s books strewn across the floor, some with missing or unhappily-bent pages, as if Dimitri had thrown them across the room. His blanket is bunched on the floor like a nest, leaving his sheets messily tangled on his bed. His pillow is still at the head of his bed, and it may just be Dedue’s imagination but he thinks that he sees _bite marks_ along the fabric of it.

There’s an overturned ink well on the desk. A training sword, snapped in two in the corner of the room. Whatever Dimitri has been trying to do to ease himself in here, it hasn’t been working.

Dedue feels a pang of sympathy for him and turns only to find that Dimitri has been watching him since he set foot in this room, something inhuman in his eyes.

“You recall that I have been through this before. You helped me a great deal then, and I would like to do the same.”

Dimitri nods slowly and Dedue reaches out to offer him one of the waterskins that he’s brought up from the kitchen.

“Please, your highness, have some water. You must be dehydrated. I’ll get some more food for you as soon as I’m able.”

Dimitri’s eyes never leave his as he reaches for the skin, snapping it up in a quick motion and unscrewing the cap before taking a deep drink- and then another, and another. Dedue was right: he _is_ dehydrated. He’s probably starving too, and Dedue regrets dropping the tray of food immensely, as he worries that if he leaves to get another then Dimitri may not let him back in. He’ll have to figure out some way to bring him some later.

But for now, that hardly matters. Dimitri sets the now-empty skin down with a small sigh of satisfaction before turning his eyes back up toward Dedue, piercing and intense.

“...what now?”

He takes the second water skin and uncaps it, turning it over on the one cloth that had managed to stay clean throughout the whole ordeal, wetting it before slowly approaching his prince. Dimitri doesn’t move to fight him off or push him away and so he lifts the cloth to press cool and refreshing against the back of Dimitri’s neck.

There’s a hitch of breath at the first contact, but Dimitri can’t help but to relax into it all the same, his eyes slowly drifting shut. Like this, slowly calming down and letting Dedue help him- he looks so small and vulnerable and he moves back to sit on the edge of his bed, taking the cloth from Dedue’s hand to continue wiping at his sweat-damp skin.

Dedue’s gaze follows the path of his hands. The cloth smells like him now- the entire room does, and it lights something in him that he tries to keep guard over, but he feels acutely as if he’s in the belly of the beast now, with Dimitri’s scent all over everything he’s brought in.

Maybe this was a mistake.

The cloth slips out of Dimitri’s hands, too wet for him to get a firm grasp on it and without thinking, Dedue lunges to catch it before it falls on the floor and gets dirty.

He never makes it that far.

At the sudden movement, Dimitri _reacts_ like an animal that had been waiting to pounce: Dedue feels an impact on the front of his shoulder and then another, square in his chest and he’s sent stumbling backwards and Dimitri is _on_ him, coiled muscle and slick aggression and Dedue feels Dimitri’s forearm pressed across his chest and it slams his shoulders back into the wall hard enough to make the ceiling tremble.

The wind is knocked out of him but he doesn’t- would never- raise a hand, even if his instincts scream at him to defend himself. Not against Dimitri, never against him, and the lack of resistance makes Dimitri’s cold eyes go blank, reevaluating the situation.

Dimitri has his arm pressed up against him, locking Dedue’s upper body into the wall with incredible strength, despite the difference in their size. Like this, Dedue supposes, he could bring his arm up against his throat and suffocate him, or he could try to snap his neck, though his fingers might be too short to get enough of a grip on it, as large as Dedue is.

They stay like that, still, with the air between them tense and thick, for what feels like an eternity. Dimitri is looking at his eyes, unblinking, and Dedue watches him in turn, trying not to give the impression that he would ever want to fight back, trying to make himself into as little of a threat as possible.

Neither of them say anything. Dedue barely allows himself to breathe, and he feels Dimitri’s arm pressed against his chest with every inhale.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Dedue lifts his chin and exposes his throat.

It’s submission, maybe, something that he hopes will appease Dimitri’s newly-honed alpha instincts without further escalating things between them. It makes him feel intensely vulnerable, not to be able to watch the other man while his neck is exposed and Dimitri could rip his throat out. A chill shudders through Dedue’s spine when he realizes that there’s a part of Dimitri that probably _wants_ to.

Dimitri does not rip his throat out.

The pressure on his chest eases, in fact, and Dedue would relax but then Dimitri is moving closer into him. He can’t see him yet, he still won’t lower his jaw to be able to watch the shorter man in front of him, but he can feel the shift of his body moving until Dimitri is almost touching him with the full length of his torso and his arm presses back against him, but it’s more Dimitri leaning up on him rather than forcing him down. 

Still, Dedue doesn’t fight it. His tongue feels too big for his mouth when he finally tries to speak and he can _taste_ Dimitri’s scent in the air, now on him, hopelessly mixed into his clothing and he’ll never get it out, not with all the washing he could do for years.

“...whatever we are, your highness,” he starts and the room has been silent for so long that his voice suddenly sounds loud, despite it being barely above a whisper, “prince and vassal, friend and friend, alpha and alpha- I am yours. I will never harm you. I will do as you say, always.”

He feels, rather than hears, Dimitri’s exhale against him in response to his words, the prince’s body sagging a little further against his until he can feel Dimitri’s chest pressed up against his own arm, pressed against Dedue.

And then he feels something else entirely- something wet and soft and unthinkably warm, following up the curve of his throat.

Dimitri is almost meek when he licks him, meeting the bounding pulse of Dedue’s carotid and tracing up until it meets his jaw, where his teeth scrape, just a little, just _there_, and just the threat of a bite is enough to make Dedue’s heart feel like it’s going to give out with how hard it’s pounding.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology is from Dimitri and Dedue doesn’t understand it at first, but his prince's hand slowly unclenches from his fist in between them and falls away, moving to grip at his arm, and Dimitri is sliding up against him, helpless and drunk with his rut and his face is now pressed against Dedue’s outstretched throat, his lips tickling as he speaks again, almost inaudible from where it’s pressed into skin.

“I _need_…”

Dedue knows exactly what he needs. He’s had experience with this very thing and it resurfaces now, the memory of Dimitri near him, guiding him through it, handing him a warm handful of bread to eat and awkwardly ignoring his miserable arousal.

Should he ignore Dimitri's in turn? He can suddenly feel it, the firmness of the smaller man brushing against his thigh- this is uncharted territory for both of them. 

Dedue has decided long ago that there is nothing he would not freely give to Dimitri. He closes his eyes from where he'd been staying up toward the ceiling and makes a decision, a well-informed one that has everything to do with Dimitri's need and Dedue's memory of his own carnal first rut and nothing to do with the way that he sometimes can't stop himself from thinking about impossibly blue eyes and soft blond hair when he has a hand around his own cock and urges himself through his ruts.

He has always known that Dimitri would be an alpha. He has always known that his odd desire would not be possible. And yet…

And yet, here they are.

"...I'm going to move my arms," Dedue warns his voice somehow far steadier than he feels. "I'm going to touch you."

Dimitri nods, still pressed against the length of Dedue’s throat, but his hands relent their grip on Dedue’s arms and he takes that as permission to raise them slowly, resting his palms on Dimitri’s waist. His touch is so light that he barely feels the fabric of Dimitri’s shirt under his fingers, and he’s still navigating this effectively blind, his eyes closed, the warmth of Dimitri crowding him back against the wall.

No violent reaction. So far so good.

“I’m going to put my hands on you.”

Dimitri nods again and Dedue can feel the brush of hair under his chin, and for all that he thinks he’s fully submitted to the other man, he feels so _powerful_ when Dimitri lets him rest his hands fully on him, one still pressed at his waist, the other sliding around to the small of his back, that for a wild moment he thinks that he could raise the dead, fight the goddess herself, rebuild Duscur, all in that moment.

Tension continues to bleed out of Dimitri’s shoulders and Dedue’s voice finally breaks, unable to keep the calm and steady unaffected tone any longer.

“I’m going- I’m going to hold you.”

Dimitri’s shoulders tremble as Dedue wraps his arms around him, captured, his pale fists reaching to grasp at the fabric of Dedue’s uniform.

Another handful of seconds pass, which feel like years, with Dimitri in his arms, teeth edging at Dedue’s pulse, his cock hard against Dedue’s thigh. Dedue no longer knows which heartbeat he hears is his own.

“Was it like this,” Dimitri finally says, his voice wet with the moisture he’s been breathing into Dedue’s throat, “with you? It was this bad?”

Dedue is still for a long moment and eventually nods, just a slight jerk of his chin. Dimitri shivers in response, sympathetic and selfish all at once as he finally shoulders his way out of Dedue’s grip, regrettably freeing him from the wall.

“I’m too hot.”

It sounds like he’s whining, but it also feels like a confession, and Dimitri reaches for the ties of his uniform, clumsily ripping at them while Dedue tries not to watch. When he’s imagined Dimitri in his arms, he’s wistfully imagined him as a beta, casual and unaffected, a fantasy which doubtlessly emerged from that formative memory of an immune Dimitri pressing the cloth to his forehead, helping him to strip down from his long sleeves, tenderly pulling the sheets over his shoulders.

What stands before him is nothing like that boy who guided him through his first rut- instead, it’s a little beast in his own right, tempting and miserable and aching with it, and Dedue wishes that he were half the man that Dimitri was when he’d tended to him, he wishes he did not have such thoughts, but at the first flash of skin over his highness’s hip, he feels inflamed.

Dedue reaches for him, fingers catching on the shoulder of Dimitri's uniform jacket and he helps to ease him out of it before Dimitri tangles himself up in the fabric. He's left holding onto it and watching Dimitri struggle out of his undershirt. 

His shoulders are narrower than he'd have thought, usually bulked by his shoulderpads and the capelet of his head of house uniform, perfectly curved, flushed with heat and need and Dedue tries not to look further but he can't control a single sweep of his gaze tracing the path of Dimitri's battle scars, the sharp edges of his ribs, the tiny pinkness of his nipples. 

Before he can damn himself further, Dimitri crashes back into him and Dedue drops his jacket in surprise as Dimitri's hands wrap around his wrists, forcing him back against the wall again. 

Dimitri is panting, his eyes wild, but Dedue can see him struggling to stay in some form of control over himself. 

"I would not- force you. If you want to leave, you _will_ push me away and go."

Dedue nods. There is nowhere in this world he would rather be.

"That is an order."

Dimitri's voice is shakier than he likely means it to be. Dedue nods once more and Dimitri wastes no time, growling low in his throat as he collides with Dedue again, forcing him flat against the wall while his teeth latch onto his cloth-covered shoulder. 

He is pressed, body against body, his hands still keeping Dedue's wrists locked where neither of them can touch one another. That's fine, because Dimitri rolls his entire body against Dedue, the movement fluid and instinctive and Dedue can feel the hardness of his cock again, pressing insistently against his thigh. 

Distantly, Dedue realizes that he's hard as well, and that unlike Dimitri he doesn't have the excuse of his first rut, and that Dimitri can probably feel it against his hip. 

Dimitri releases his right wrist but Dedue doesn't move, doesn't want to pose a threat as Dimitri's hand moves up to clutch at the front of Dedue's jacket, ripping the front of it open- a buckle snaps and goes flying and the rest part quickly to avoid meeting the same fate. He only gets Dedue's jacket open enough to where he can nose his undershirt aside and slide his teeth along skin there, while his hand reaches up to the back of Dedue's neck, angling him, his fingers tangled in his hair and accidentally tugging it out of its short ponytail. 

He's so warm- Dimitri is burning against him and rolls forward again as his teeth finally, _finally_ latch onto the juncture where Dedue's neck meets his shoulder. And he's not, this isn't… he isn't an omega or even a beta, his biology doesn't react to Dimitri's feral mating bite but his body does. The pinpricks of pain make him gasp, surging upward to meet him, fully aware of both of their arousals now.

"Your highness-" 

Dimitri is too far gone to try and correct him and he seems content to continue humping against Dedue's thigh like a feral dog, his teeth still pressing against him, wetness against his skin. 

With his free hand, Dedue finally moves to touch him, gentling against Dimitri's side and feeling the heat burning against his skin.

"Let me…"

Being the one who still has some shred of sanity left, Dedue knows that this could be better than Dimitri's mindless rutting, he knows that it can feel better than this for Dimitri- hell, for them both- and he wants to show him just how good it can be. 

Dimitri tenses, his jaw finally unlocking from Dedue's shoulder and he pushes back once in a demonstration of his dominance- _look, I'm letting you do this, I don't have to submit to you, this is my choice-_ but lets Dedue slowly walk him backward until the back of his legs hit the bed and Dedue urges him back to it, urges him back further so his shoulders meet the rumpled sheets. 

He'd like to put his mouth on him, to worship his body the way that he's shamefully dreamed of, but Dedue knows better than to try it in the heat of Dimitri's rut and can't trust him in his wild state to not choke him with his knot. He doesn't even know if Dimitri is aware that that sort of thing will _happen_, now that he's presented, and so he pushes the thought from his mind, tables it for later maybe, when they're both sane and steady and neither of them are rutting.

So instead, Dedue stands over his prince, working his uniform jacket the rest of the way off and watching as Dimitri writhes beneath him. He watches as Dimitri scoots up on the bed to rest fully on it and pushes one of his hands down to touch his hardness through his pants, blatantly rubbing his palm over himself in his desperate need for release. 

It won't help, Dedue thinks. It takes the edge off but it never relieves all the pressure that builds up.

What's more, it does nothing for him. The scent that is cloyingly heavy in the air now, Dimitri's insistent and aggressive behavior- it doesn't match his biology and for a moment Dedue finds himself confused and not knowing quite what to do. 

If Dimitri was an omega, his instincts would have him pin the smaller man to the mattress, press his face into the pillow and _fuck_ him brutally until they could hardly move. Shamefully, Dedue has entertained fantasies of those sort often enough, despite knowing that there was no way Dimitri would ever be anything but an alpha. If he was a beta, Dedue would still fuck him as instinct demanded, though he might need to be a little more gentle- he's thought of that as well. 

Another alpha, though? 

He's lost with that one. He knows what helps him from personal experience but without his instincts and nature to guide him, he feels unusually sober. What's more, when he tries to lean back on his biology and think about what he _should_ be doing with this fresh alpha, the answer is always _fight, run, dominate, kill_\- none of which are remotely acceptable. 

With this in mind, Dedue has no choice but to look back on his naive boyhood crush, the memory of what he's done for himself to ease these ruts, and combine them into something that he hopes will work for the both of them.

With his jacket now disposed of, Dedue crawls over Dimitri's supine form, one knee on either side of the other man's hips. His hair, freed from his ponytail by Dimitri's hand earlier, hangs down just past his jaw and he looks down at Dimitri, still touching himself, still shaky and desperate with it, and wants to give him everything. 

"I've got you."

He doesn't know if Dimitri can even hear him, but it urges him forward, enough to finally put his hand over Dimitri's own, feeling for the first time, the shape and heaviness of his prince's cock through his uniform pants. 

The reaction he gets is immediate: Dimitri's eyes widen and he thrusts upward in a short jerky motion, pulling his own hand back and reaching it up for Dedue's shoulder instead.

Good.

Dedue lets out a long breath and his fingers move just for a moment to work at the clasps of Dimitri's pants, parting them quickly and pressing clumsy fingers down past the laces, taking the hem of his pants down with his wrist as his fingers search down underneath the fabric.

The first touch of skin on skin feels electric and Dimitri leans up suddenly, his arm around Dedue's shoulder yanking the larger man downward until they crash together, chest to chest.

Undaunted by the sudden loss of balance, Dedue keeps working at him, his fist tight and uncompromising as he jerks Dimitri off in short, rapid strokes. The inside of his pants was already damp with precum and the direct attention only serves to coax more out, wetting Dedue's fist around him and allowing for an easier stroke upward. 

(_Dominate_, he thinks hysterically at the intoxicating scent that's somehow even more intense than it had been just moments ago, _bite him, make him submit to you, make him follow you, make him know that you're the leader, fuck him, wrap your fist around his throat, pin him down-_) 

As if he can read his mind, Dimitri suddenly pushes at Dedue's shoulder, using his arm around his bicep to _throw_ him, and Dedue has to let go of his cock too quickly to be comfortable as his shoulders bounce against the wall that Dimitri's bed is pressed against. 

He's going to ache later, but that's nothing in the face of Dimitri snarling at him like a wild animal now, and throwing his leg over Dedue's hip, manhandling him down on the bed and striving further against him. 

Like this, Dimitri is dominant, controlling, but now he lacks Dedue's hand on him like it was before, which is entirely unacceptable. He looks down at Dedue, wild-eyed, his lips curled back and- and he wants to fuck him, Dedue can tell suddenly from the way Dimitri's gaze trips down over his body and he knows that Dimitri is coming to the same realization that he himself had a few moments ago: that they're incompatible, that without some kind of oil (which they don't have) or preparation (which Dimitri doesn't have time for), they can't- it won't work between them. 

If they did, Dedue would let him. He knows this in a heartbeat. 

Dimitri grows more frustrated by this realization and rocks his hips against Dedue's own, keeping a hand on his shoulder, pinning him to the bed while his other hand moves down to open Dedue's pants. 

He's uneasy, shaky, violent but he won't ask for help, not when it could be seen as a sign of weakness. So Dedue tries to answer his unspoken questions with action, slipping his own hand between them to assist. 

Dimitri lets him do it, but not without raking his short nails up Dedue's stomach, pushing his shirt up and leaving raised lines in his wake.

"I want- I want you, please-" 

He doesn't, Dedue thinks- he wants a hole he can fuck, he wants someone who will react the right way when he bites them, and he should have that. If Dedue could give it to him, he would, but now all he can do is slip his pants down his hips and pull his own hard length out and let Dimitri do what he wants. Anything he wants. 

"You have me."

Dimitri whines in response, leaning down again to get his teeth over the bite mark he's already left. It's bruising by now and he rocks forward, pressing their cocks together between them. Dedue, adaptable as anything, reaches his long fingers up to grab him, to hold them both together and stroke.

They're the same size, as is to be expected when they're both alphas, but in the middle of a rut Dimitri's cock is still fleshing out fully and Dedue can start to feel the familiar firm bulge growing at the base of his dick.

At the first press of the two of them together, Dimitri bites harder, drawing blood this time, and Dedue hisses through his teeth at the pain of it. 

Dimitri, perhaps smelling Dedue's arousal, realizing the _wrongness_ of it, bites harder as his hips shift more insistently into Dedue's hand, fucking into his fingers made slick by both of their earlier excitement. 

Dedue's breath comes out shaky and he feels rivulets of blood beginning to drip down over his shoulder and down his chest and stain the collar of his shirt and the sheets beneath him. The scent of blood pierces through Dimitri's alpha pheromones and Dedue feels high- pain and pleasure and scent and the knowledge that Dimitri is finally _taking_ from him in his most carnal way- it all comes together in a smoldering swirl and Dedue keens, letting out a soft cry as he feels his body tense in preparation of his climax. 

"Your highness- Dimitri, I-" 

Suddenly, Dimitri pulls away, ripping his head back and shifting upright to sit more fully on Dedue's hips, though he doesn't stop moving in tandem with Dedue's diligent strokes. 

Was it because he called his name? Dedue is about to apologize but he sees something else in Dimitri's eyes, a reverie, as if he's unable to hear anything at all. 

His prince looks up toward the ceiling, gold hair haloed on his head, blue eyes glazed over and distant and blood, Dedue's blood, painting his lips and dripping down his chin and he looks like a god in that moment, a warrior king, inhuman and ethereal and Dedue suddenly and fiercely loves him more than he's ever loved anything in his entire life. 

He comes without warning, barely able to look at the man above him who has taken him and wrought him so thoroughly and Dedue doesn't want to close his eyes, he wants to remember this forever but he has to look away or risk being blinded. 

Though maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he considers, if this was the last thing he ever sees.

When he comes back to his senses, Dimitri is whimpering against him, thrusting needily into Dedue's admittedly-lax hand. 

His knot is swelling more insistently now and Dedue knows how uncomfortable it is to have it come without some sort of pressure around it- to his shame, he has a toy or two hidden in his room with which he uses to bring himself relief, but he hadn't thought to bring them. 

His fingers will have to make do and he moves his other hand downward to help, wrapping his fingers firmly around the base of Dimitri's cock and stroking him with his free hand.

"It is alright. I've got you. You're almost done."

Dimitri trembles with it, his shoulders sagging forward, head dropping low. 

"I'm close, Dedue, I don't know what-" 

"I know," he responds evenly, shushing Dimitri's concerns, "you're doing so well. I'll take care of you. You're so good…" 

Dimitri groans as he finally comes and Dedue doesn't want to take his hands away from his cock and so his stomach winds up coated in semen- some of it his own, mostly Dimitri's, made far more substantial by his rut. 

His prince shudders his way through it, all brutality and dominance forgotten in his need to just let go and ride it out. Dimitri's eyes are closed, his chest and cheeks flushed and it isn't over, Dedue knows. The first rut can last for up to a week, but hopefully, maybe, he's brought Dimitri a little peace during the worst part of it. 

Dedue keeps the hand wrapped around Dimitri's knot but takes his other hand away, using it to help him sit up, to wrap around Dimitri's shoulders and gently, as if calming an animal, turning him and lowering them both to lay on their sides, facing one another.

The position is hell on his now-injured shoulder which he strongly suspects will need a few bandages, but it doesn't matter, he'll live. Dimitri's eyes are hazy and unfocused, made mindless with the pleasure and crashing hormones that ransack his body and leave him as motionless as a corpse, save for the slight twitches of his hips when his body continues to empty itself into his sheets.

"It will subside for a few hours now," Dedue finally says, trying to keep calm. "You need to eat during that time. I'll bring… things that I've used that help with the knot. You'll feel-" 

"I hurt you." 

It's slurred, interrupting him, and Dedue lifts his eyes to find Dimitri staring idly at the blood that's now drying against his sheets, smeared into his skin.

"It's nothing. It's natural that you would try to mate me. When it didn't take, you tried harder."

Dimitri's brows furrow, too exhausted to jump up and make a mess of apologizing and fixing things, but not so weary that he could ignore this.

"Let me bandage it."

They're on a timetable here, and they have to work fast to get food and other necessities before the next round hits, but Dedue knows Dimitri and he knows that the guilt would eat at him if he didnt feel like he could do something about it. 

"Alright. When you're done." Dedue nods downward, indicating to where his hand was still wrapped around him.

Realization makes Dimitri flush and he nods once, slowly coming back to himself. 

"I think- it's almost over."

So it is. 

_

Bandaged and clothed and with a dozen apologies in his ear, Dedue has stripped the bed, collecting Dimitri's soiled sheets and folded them to take with him when he goes.

"I'll meet you back here in a few hours," he promises, "after you've eaten."

"Wait."

He looks back to see Dimitri, now fully clothed and looking much healthier, approaching him with a bit of regret in his eyes. He lifts his hands and Dedue notes his hair tie caught in Dimitri's fingers, the one that he'd ripped out earlier. 

Dimitri stands up tall and Dedue leans over a little to allow his prince to tie his hair back, inexpertly but taking care to be delicate all the same. 

"There. Now you look…" Dimitri frowns, unable to really finish that sentence in an honest-yet-complimentary way. 

Dedue knows how he looks. Stray pieces of hair are escaping from the ponytail, his jacket is ripped and one of the clasps has come clean off and he's generally _rumpled_. 

Dimitri seems as though he's about to apologize for all of it once more, but Dedue raises a hand, stopping him. 

"I don't regret this, your highness. I wanted to help you- I still do, like you helped me. It gives me great pride to know that you would let me assist you in this way."

"I don't remember you almost tearing my throat out when I helped you," Dimitri offers back in a guilty counterpoint.

Dedue manages a small smile, just a little thing that tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"As I have learned, it's different now that we are both presented. Please do not concern yourself with it." He raises a hand, touching the bandage at the juncture of his shoulder and neck lightly, remembering in an instant how Dimitri had looked with blood streaming down his chin. "I… enjoyed it."

Should he be ashamed of that? Should he feel as if he was taking advantage simply because he took his own pleasure as well? He doesn't know. But Dimitri still looks troubled and Dedue reminds himself that they don't have time for this, so he nods again, turning to go. 

"You don't need to return if you don't want to," Dimitri insists to Dedue's back. 

Dedue, who has already made himself clear, does not respond and instead steps out of the room with the messy sheets in hand, folded discretely to avoid any glimpse of what exactly was staining them. 

He looks down, remembering the spilled food and moves to pick up the plate on his way out- but it isn't there.

The door closes behind him and Dedue stares at the ground where he'd left the mess, confused, and worry begins to creep into his gut. 

The wall. He'd slammed into it with enough force to startle anyone on the other side, maybe someone who would come out and look for him. Not Sylvain, he was out all night with some girl, but on the other side of Dimitri's room is…

The sound of a door closing snaps him out of his stupor and Dedue looks sharply to the right toward Felix's room. In his distraction, he hadn't heard him walking up- sneaking, more like quiet and catlike, as if trying to avoid detection.

Of course Felix would sneak past him, Felix who had heard them, maybe even smelled them through the door, Felix who had doubtlessly cleaned the mess in front of Dimitri's room without saying anything about it. 

Dedue doesn't know what to think about that. He hopes that Felix won't bother Dimitri with what he knows, but there's no way to be sure. 

In any case, there's nothing he can do about it now.

With a sigh, Dedue adjusts the laundry in his arms and heads toward the washing area in order to clean up before he returns to his prince.

**Author's Note:**

> I love... fire emblem... I love... Dimitri... I love... dumb a/b/o dynamics.... I wrote this fic on mobile so I'm sorry if there's any formatting/autocorrect issues.... 
> 
> I have some ideas for how I want to flesh out this world but I'm still working through them! This is the first fic I've written in years so any comments/kudos are greatly appreciated c:
> 
> Say hi to me at unraelated @ twitter! I literally live, breathe, and sleep fire emblem these days and these two are one of my favorite pairings but I love all characters and a ton of various ships so please hit me up so I can talk to more people!!!


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